Born of Earth
by Umodin
Summary: Filius Flitwick was used to having to look up when talking to prospective students, he expected them to be taller than him. He was not, however, used to looking up at eleven year old boys that were taller than most seventh year Hogwarts students. He had only one conclusion upon seeing this student hopeful: giants blood.
1. The Wind Blows

**Disclaimers and all that rot:** **I own nothing but this fanfiction, and if you were told differently then please show me that in writing because I would love nothing more than to own the only book franchise in the world that has made over a billion dollars.**

 **So, this is my latest attempt at a fanfiction, one that will hopefully have somewhat long chapters and one that I have every intention to complete. I have other stories, and I update those sporadically, but I had a thought and really like it, and with that thought came this story.**

 **Out of all my stories, be it past or present, I have never used an OC for a main character that didn't know the plot beforehand. They were either reincarnated or somehow miraculously arrived into that universe and did whatever they felt like with their unusual opportunity. With that said, I felt that such stories have somewhat degraded my enjoyment of these series I write for, sad as it may seem. This is my attempt at using an OC that does not possess any prior knowledge of this universe; one that I feel is quite unique in the HPverse. Though I think it is unique, it is nearly impossible to avoid clichés due to the massive amount that exist in fanfiction so please bear with me.**

 **I upped the timeline of the HPverse 20 years in the future. Why? Because I can.**

 **I am looking for a beta, though I have no idea how to go about looking for one nor how the service works. If anybody is interested in the position, please PM me and I'll get back to you as quick as I can.**

 **Special thanks to Noodlehammer for writing the story For Love of Magic, which is the inspiration that started this idea. He is an amazing author and I highly recommend you look up his work.**

TTTTTTTTTTTT

On the night of September 23rd, 1999, the London street of Burdett Road was quiet and unnaturally empty. A woman walked the street with purpose, a small basket covered in cloths inside was held in her left hand and a while a wand was tightly gripped in her right. She was large, far larger than any had the right to be and stood near 12 feet high. Minutes passed in a similar silence, a ward surrounded her that made her inconspicuous to any muggle watchers, and she found herself stopping in front of a large square building without any lights on.

 _Leopold House, 199 Burdett Road_ the sign read above the building door. She released a strained sigh, muttering to herself in French, and placed the basket on the step of the building. She bent down low, unveiling the cloths of the basket to reveal a fairly large babe with a small tuft of brown hair and pale olive skin sleeping peacefully.

She went through her robes and pulled out a piece of parchment. Tucking it inside the cloths that held her infant, she placed one last kiss on her sons head while tears marred the cloths surrounding him. She turned away, hiding her freely falling tears from the world and wordlessly apparated to places unknown.

The sound of her apparition awoke the baby boy in a jolt, causing him to wale loudly. The lights of Leopold House suddenly turned on, and the door swung open. A comely woman with short black hair and dull blue eyes stared blankly at the infant in a basket.

She groaned, a Scottish accent ringing through the building patio as she spoke to herself, "Why do these folk think this is 'ow they drop off'a kid? There're papers they got'ter sign fer a damn good reason."

With a put upon sigh she picked up the basket and brought it inside, trying her best to stoutly ignore the crying boy in order to process the fact that some _bloody idiot left a baby on her doorstep._ Yes, this building happened to be an orphanage, but there was a _process_ in which people left children to her care, and even then she had the right to reject children. Whoever dropped this child off was damn lucky that she had two open slots; else she'd have no choice but to bring the baby to the authorities.

She found a note in the basket, hidden under some of the layers of expensive cloths that told her that whoever dropped the baby boy off likely had the income to support him. She looked at the note and opened it.

A scoff escaped her throat, she didn't know how to read French and she wasn't going to bother looking for a translator, whoever dumped this child on her had no say in how he was brought up. The only thing that mattered was a name, and at the very bottom of the note had it written in an elegant script.

 _Gregor Anton Maxime_

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Three years after Gregor's arrival in the orphanage he ended up being adopted.

And elderly couple that was well off by the name of Alec and Dorothy Clegane came by, looking for a child to adopt one autumn day in 1982. Alec was taken by Gregor's unnatural size, already standing 42 inches (3 '6 feet) tall. Dorothy, however, was interested in his heritage; though she would admit that his size was what originally caught her attention.

She was born Dorothy Smith, an exiled squib of the House of Smith. Though her years were kind and she married a well off man, all three of her children inherited her squib stature and were not permitted to enter the wizarding world. She'd always wanted for at least one of her children to be a wizard, and now that they wanted to raise another she would have her wish. Gregor had pleasantly surprised her while Alec was talking with the matron by summoning a toy block from the other side of the room in a fit of accidental magic. She wanted him then and there, and Alec was quick to agree with his wife's wants.

Over the years, Gregor learned that while his adoptive parents did in fact care for him, he was adopted primarily because they had too much money and time on their hands and didn't know what to do in their retirement. Alec spent most of his days watching the telly and playing golf with his old business partners while Dorothy left him on his own and gave him access to her library card and amazon account; the novelty of raising a magical quickly wore off on her. She was incapable of teaching him anything magical due to her being a squib and not receiving a witch's education, and she couldn't hire a muggleborn tutor because she had no idea how to contact one in the first place. Still, the library was only a three block walk from their home and the internet was a wonderfully diverse tool, so Gregor was rarely without something to do.

He ate what he was told to eat, read the books and tomes he was assigned by his tutors, got grades that would make them proud, and only got nods from his adoptive parents, as if that was only natural he succeed in such a way. They were more like distant grandparents than they were proper parents, and because of this he would refer to them by their given names instead of mum and dad. He did what he was told and they left him well enough alone.

There was little affection involved in Gregor's life, his adoptive parents preferred lectures over such frivolities, and he slowly became closed off to the world at large. He delved into the fantastical world of literature and video games, taking enjoyment in the many worlds and stories that the books and games provided. Due to this, his reading level far outclassed many of his mates in school, and he found himself somewhat of an outcast; giving him a fairly antisocial mindset. Many of the books he read and games he played had an emphasis on magic; something which led to his most notable hobby. Through those books and games he began to find hobby in reading lore, mythology, and cultural legends.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Filius Flitwick let out a small sigh as he used his wand to press the doorbell. Though being short was a boon in many situations in the wizarding world, he cursed his small stature when he was forced to enter the muggle world for visits such as this.

The door opened only a minute after he pushed the button, revealing an elderly man with balding hair and a slightly hunched back.

"Can I help you?" he said.

"I believe so; do you have any relations to a Gregor Clegane?" Filius asked.

The man rose a brow, "I'm Alec, his father. Who are you?"

Filius kept himself from shifting uncomfortably under the gaze of the man; he always had difficulty with the elderly. "My name is Professor Filius Flitwick, I've been told to inform you that your son has been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Alec blinked before nodding, opening the door further. "My wife was what you lot called a squib, so she knew a bit and told Gregor what little she knew. Mind you, it's been near fifty years since she stepped foot in your world, so we really don't know much aside from that you exist."

Filius entered the house with a confused look on his face. If a child held British magical blood in their veins, then regardless of one of their being born to a squib they were to be sent their Hogwarts letter by owl. After voicing his confusion and citing his reasoning to Alec, the man quickly caught on and shrugged.

"Gregor was adopted by us when he was three. He had a French name, so maybe that's why?"

With a nod of agreement Filius found himself being lead into the house. In the sitting room of the Clegane home was what Filius presumed to be Alec's wife looking over a muggle device he believed was called a tablet.

"Dorothy," Alec called. "We have a guest from that Hogwarts place."

She put her tablet down and looked at Filius with wide eyes. Her stunned expression turned into a somewhat vindictive smile.

"Good to meet you professor. I'll just go grab Greg from his room." She walked as quickly as her wrinkled form would allow and made way up a set of stairs.

Filius and Alec waited patiently, Alec making small talk about the wizarding world and Filius happily answering his questions.

Dorothy returned soon after, and Filius couldn't help but stare at the boy she brought down with her with a dropped jaw. He stood over 6 feet, had cropped brown hair, slate grey eyes and a even few stray pieces of facial hair.

Dorothy smiled pleasantly, "This is our son Gregor."

Gregor looked down at Filius, and Filius couldn't help but be reminded of his interactions with Hagrid. Filius stood at 30 inches, only 2 '6 feet, and while he was perfectly fine with his height and expected his students to double his size, it wasn't often that he believed a student might _triple_ his size. But, upon looking at Gregors body which wasn't lanky in the slightest, Filius couldn't help but believe such a thing.

"Good morning, sir." Gregor said, he squatted down and held out a hand and Filius shook it as firmly as he could, though his fingers hurt from the boys grip.

"Indeed, good morning Mr. Clegane. Has your mother told you why I'm here?"

Gregor nodded and Filius wordlessly pulled a letter from his coat pocket and handed it to the large boy. He tore into the letter with the same gusto as any other eleven year old and looked at the reveal parchment with a glint in his eye.

 _Gregor's bedroom; 18 Barnes_

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL_ _of_ _WITCHCRAFT_ _and_ _WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Mr. Clegane,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 1 August._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

He looked over the back of the letter, taking in the needed supplies with curiosity.

"As you are to be a first year student, it is my job as a professor to guide you through Diagon Alley, the cornerstone of the wizarding world in Britain. The letter states that you need to owl the school your acceptance, but since I'm here all I need is written consent from your parents and we can schedule in when I should take you to the alley."

Gregor turned to his foster parents; his eyes alight in a pleading manner. "May I?"

Dorothy smiled, "Yes, Greg, you can go." she turned to Filius, "Would you be alright with us leaving now? Alec has a meeting with some old clients, but Greg and I are available now if you are."

Filius shook his head, "I'm afraid not, I have to deliver more letters to other students today. Every year, on the first of July, we heads of house have to go deliver letters to muggleborns that are of age to enroll in person. When is your birthday Gregor?"

He scratched his neck, not certain where that line of question came from, "September 23rd, sir."

"Yes, that's why we do this. You aren't the only student that was born so close to the start of term, and if we let students have access to a wand that early while they waited for their time... Well it would be disastrous."

Dorothy nodded and the two struck up a schedule a week from now to visit Diagon Alley.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

"Are you certain?" Dumbledore asked in curiosity. Filius had just returned from his day of recruitment, and had apparently met a very interesting hopeful. Dumbledore always enjoyed hearing about the muggleborn crowd that would be joining his school, why just yesterday Minerva gave a glowing report about a young Granger girl that had him quite excited for the coming term.

"Certain? No. But it's the only thing that makes sense to me. He's likely got some giants blood in his veins, not a half like Hagrid but possibly a quarter or an eighth." Filius himself was a quarter-goblin on his father's side of the family, and it gave him a sort of insight into those with curious bloodlines.

Dumbledore nodded, stroking his beard absently with a far off look. This year was turning out to be interesting. Harry Potter would be returning to the wizarding world at long last, and now he had news that another mixedblood would be attending. He never cared much for the term, preferring to simply call them humans-with-a-little-extra, but it was an aptly blunt name if nothing else.

"Hm… I wonder if Hagrid would be willing to take him to Diagon Alley, perhaps give the boy some advice should he indeed have giants blood?" Giants, while brutish and low in intelligence, were connected to magic in a way wizards never would be. Giants were beings of earth, similar to how goblins were beings of metal and veela were beings of fire, and those that carried their blood in part had the ability to tap into certain properties. Hagrid, even with a broken wand, was capable of silent Transfiguration since the study derived from the earth in its most primal form. He was also quite good with Herbology, which made Hagrid ideal for raising the various fruits and vegetables that were used during feasts and celebrations; Dumbledore especially loved Hagrids giant pumpkins on Halloween.

"I'm afraid I've already scheduled to take the boy and his foster mother to the alley, but I'm sure Hagrid would be delighted to talk to somebody about it. Mind you, the boy has no clue and believes himself to simply be big in size. It's best to ease him into the idea after he gets accustomed to Hogwarts, if my assumption is wrong, well… As the yanks say, it would make an ass out of me should I say something prematurely."

Dumbledore smiled down at the small professor, mirth dancing in his eyes at the mention of the American phrase. "A splendid and well thought plan, you do Ravenclaw proud Filius."

TTTTTTTTTTTT

"This is the entrance to Diagon Alley?" Dorothy asked with a skeptical look on her face. She'd never gotten the opportunity to go to Diagon through anything other than the floo when she was a young girl, and the passage through the Leaky Cauldron caused her no small amount of pause.

Filius chuckled with mirth, "Indeed Mrs. Clegane. The Leaky Cauldron might not be the fanciest of places, but it's inconspicuous and that's what matters most."

Gregor tried to appear inconspicuous from behind Dorothy; he had no interest in the attention his size usually garnered. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the folk in the Cauldron didn't care to give him a second glance.

The trio passed through the Leaky Cauldron without any other incident and found their way inside Diagon Alley proper.

Dorothy looked over the alley with fond remembrance while Gregor thought he must have stepped back in time somehow. The alley was lain with a cobblestone road surrounded by Victorian buildings that were scrunched together in a narrow passage with all manner of merchants selling curious wares.

"Now, let us head to Gringotts so we can convert your Pounds into Galleons. Should you choose, you could get a vault, though that would be a mite bit expensive." Filius said, leading the Clegane mother-son pair through the narrowly paved alley.

Gregor blinked at the blindingly bright white building that covered the end of the alley, more so he blinked at the pair of short, non-human guards that were armored and armed outside the gates of the building.

Filius briefly looked at Gregor and answer his unasked question, "Goblins." he said. "A clever folk, nearly as good with money as they are with a lance." That comment earned him sharp grins from the pair of guards that they trio made way inside Gringotts. Gregor took a moment to read the inscription on the large gates as he walked through, taking note of the reverence the words seemed to hold for the guards.

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath out floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

Gregor couldn't help but let loose a small snicker. Goblin _bankers?_ From the many fantasy books he'd read and games he'd played, goblins were generally put in the category of dull, gold obsessed creatures that were the forefront of the antagonists army. Though, he supposed it did make sense in a backwards fashion; Alec always warned him that bankers were some of the most vicious people alive. Goblins were commonly stereotyped to be similarly vicious, and if the grins Professor Flitwick received were any indication he'd have to say that the books he read were spot on. At least these weren't like the goblins from Warcraft, those buggers were just annoying.

Filius frowned disapprovingly at the overly tall eleven year old, "Theft is no laughing matter to goblins, young Gregor. Trust me, I share kinship with them; they always get their due whether it be in gold or blood."

Gregor was quick to stop laughing when he noticed the barely hidden sneers on the faces of a few goblins that heard his laughter. With a small shudder he quickened his pace with his soon-to-be-teacher and his foster mother.

They soon found their way in front of one of the numerous goblin teller stations of the bank, labeled with the number fifty three.

Filius calmly spoke in a hushed guttural tongue and held out the back of his hand, which was tapped by the back of the tellers hand in turn. The teller turned his attention onto Dorothy, "Do you desire a vault, or just conversion?" he questioned bluntly.

Dorothy blinked, not expecting her to be questioned, but composed herself quickly, "Just conversion, we'll think about opening a vault a few years down the road."

The goblin nodded blankly and pointed to his left, "Seek out teller station twelve, that's where conversion of muggle currencies is done."

They gave their thanks and made their way over to station twelve, having to wait in line behind a family of three; two moderate looking adults and a little girl with bushy brown hair looking around the bank with overly clinical fascination. Time passed somewhat slowly, it took some twenty minutes for the family of three to finish their business, but Dorothy and Filius were finally able to speak to the teller.

"Twenty Pounds is the equivalent one one Galleon, Mrs. Clegane." The teller said.

She nodded and dug her hand through her purse, "Does this bank take cheques?" The teller nodded quickly, informing her that so long as her bank was based in England they would do so.

Money was exchanged easily enough from that point on. Dorothy was a believer in being safe over being sorry, and exchanged 1,000 Pounds for 50 Galleons; an amount that Filius assured her would pay for Gregors school supplies without issue and then some.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Upon leaving the bank, the trio officially began their school shopping in earnest. It was decided that the book shop would be last, Gregor was likely to splurge on the fairy tales, mythos and wizarding legends for the sake of his hobby, and Dorothy had no interest in letting him spend too much money without purchasing the rest of his supplies first.

The first stop was Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. Despite Gregors size and likelihood to still grow, she stayed entirely professional and outfitted him accordingly. He was being fitted next to some Parkinson girl and the bushy haired girl that stood in front of him in the bank, and Gregor was quite glad that she apparently mistook him for an older year and generally ignored his presence; he found her interaction with the bushy haired girl to be quite disturbing and was more than happy to ignore their presence while mentally noting to ask Professor Flitwick what the word mudblood meant.

The trunk shop and apothecary were next, both passed without incident aside from when charms master informed him what a mudblood was, which caused Gregor to gnash his teeth in aggravation.

In the Magical Menagerie, Dorothy bought a standard tawny owl to carry mail back and forth between Hogwarts and London. She did not, however, get a pet for Gregor; he did not find anything of interest and Dorothy decided that their new owl, who was named Sandor, was a family pet and that Gregor didn't need another pet.

The last stop prior to Gregor's perusal of the book store was the wand shop, Ollivander's.

They walked inside the small side-alley shop, dust littered various boxes and wands.

"Good afternoon." The soft greeting came from behind, causing Gregor to give his standard knee-jerk reaction to being surprised.

He turned around and punched.

Ollivander stared at Gregors fist, his wide eyes looked magnified behind his glasses, and barely dodged the punch. Gregor's fist was buried in the wood of the wall, right above Ollivanders left shoulder while his head was tilted away from the meaty limb.

"Well, perhaps not so good anymore." He said slowly, and Gregor flushed red and muttered an apology. Dorothy did not look disapproving in the slightest while Professor Flitwick appeared to be trying very hard not to fall on the floor laughing.

"Filius Flitwick, how I wish I was the one to match you." Ollivander said whimsically, still looking at Gregors arm.

"I'm afraid Gregorovitch would be quite cross with me, as would my wand, if I let you try Garrick."

Olivander nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer, "Yes indeed, your wand would be cross and rightly so. For it is the wand that chooses the wizard." Olivander chose that moment to move away from Gregors arm and began to sort through the various boxes on the shelves of his shop.

He handed Gregor a wand that was seemingly pulled at random, "Try this one. Beechwood and unicorn hair, ten inches; fairly brittle. Give it a wave."

Gregor complied mutely, still embarrassed from nearly punching. Nothing escaped the tip of the wand, and Olivander snatched it away an instant later muttering no's as he continued to give the large boy more and more wands.

After a total of thirty seven wands were tried, Gregor finally found a match. The wand let out a mass of yellow sparks, which caused Olivander to clap joyously.

"Yes, indeed! Well done! Vinewood and dragon heartstring, fourteen and a half inches; unyielding. Good for transfigurations."

Dorothy paid for the wand quickly enough, having spent nearly an hour in Olivander's for a wand to match her adoptive son. Professor Flitwick had left the shop midway in and returned with sandwiches from the Leaky Cauldron for the Cleganes, an action that was well received by them and largely ignored by Olivander.

The last stop was the bookshop, where Gregor was able to truly let loose. He quickly found his way to the fiction section, immensely curious of what constituted of fiction in a world that might as well have come out of a fantasy novel. He eventually left the shop with his school books and the full set of the Harry Potter Adventure series.

He was well aware that it was fiction, but from what Professor Flitwick told him there were some poor souls that thought they were based off true events.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Gregor let out a small sigh of relief as he sank into the cushioned seats of the Hogwarts Express.

Leaving his foster parents for ten months of the year would be an experience, both good and bad for certain. He may not have loved them, just as they did not truly love him, but he was perfectly aware that they backed him financially and being without his ever available supply of money would be a change of pace.

At least the robes were somewhat comfortable, even if they'd fallen out of fashion centuries ago. Apparently Madam Malkin placed a set of charms of her brand so that no customer of hers would ever be cold, uncomfortable and most importantly asking for a refund. Still, he had no plans to wear them aside from when it was strictly necessary.

Professor Flitwick was quite open with information, which led Gregor to understand that the wizarding world was behind their muggle counterparts in technological advancements. He was not looking forward to needed quills and parchment; and on the small professors advisement he bought a separate batch of pens and paper for personal notes. Well, that and having to live without electrical heaters in the highlands of Scotland was going to be a chore.

He already missed his Xbox.

Idly, while waiting for the train to take off, he pulled out his Harry Potter books and read quietly. In the books they mentioned something called a magical core, and while Gregor knew not to believe everything that was written, he was curious about cores. According to the book series, a magical core correlated to the base amount of magic a wizard or witch could use. What made Gregor question whether or not that was an _actual thing_ was when the books mentioned that Harry Potter's magical core was so large that he was capable of fighting dragons flame with an overpowered Incendio at the age of seven.

After looking up the spell in his Charms book, Gregor was quick to understand that bit of fiction for what it was.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?"

Gregor turned to find the same bushy haired girl from the bank and Madam Malkin's standing in the doorway of his compartment with her belongings at her side.

Wordlessly he nodded to her, and she smiled widely in return; showing off a pair of large, bucktoothed and glaringly white teeth. She marched inside with authority, bringing her trolley into the compartment and Gregor silently helped her put her things in the overhead.

"Thank you. Are you an upper year by chance?"

"First year."

She stared at him with an open mouth, no doubt judging him silently, before grinning openly.

"Me too! Oh I can't wait to start the term, I was ever so surprised to learn I had magic; I'm a muggleborn you see. Oh, I'm sorry, I've been quite rude haven't I? My name's Hermione Granger, and you are?"

Gregor blinked at her slowly, taking a moment to comprehend the words she spoke in rapid fire.

"Gregor Clegane." He slowly stated, taking a moment to sit back down and place his book on his lap; an action Hermione noticed quickly.

"It's nice to meet you! I hope you know that your book is terribly wrong, the real telling of Harry Potter is in the _Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizards and Witches of the 20_ _th_ _Century_." she babbled.

Gregor let out a sigh, this girl seemed to be a talker. "I found this book in the fiction section." he said, cutting her off mid rant.

She blinked, apparently not comprehending his words, before her eyes lit up in what he could only call a righteous anger. " _Fiction?!_ Why would you want to read fiction when you're in a world of magic?"

Gregor glared at her, he wasn't a fan of people mocking him. "My hobby is reading cultural legends and mythology, and I wanted to see what would be considered fiction in the wizarding world. See how they compared to muggle fantasy novels and all that."

She seemed taken aback by his logical retort, and her eyes once again lit up, this time in apparent curiosity. "Oh! My apologies, I have a terrible habit of jumping to the wrong conclusion. Yes, that actually sounds quite fascinating now that I think about it from your point of view. Do you have a copy I could read for the train ride?"

Tired of hearing her babble, Gregor handed her the copy in his lap and went for his backpack which held the next book in the series.

The rest of the time in the compartment was fairly silent. The Hogwarts Express took off during that time and they were joined by a boy named Neville Longbottom. Neville had apparently lost his pet midway through the journey and Hermione opted to help the poor boy look for his toad while Gregor chose to hold down the fort. They returned an hour later with no luck and a sniffling Neville.

The only complication came in the form of a boy named Draco Malfoy, who was apparently going door to door in order to look for Harry Potter. The first thing he did upon opening their compartment door was call Neville a squib and Hermione a mudblood while completely ignoring Gregor. Now, Gregor may not have much cared for his compartmentmates due to his not knowing them, but he hated that term with a passion ever since Professor Flitwick told him what it meant and upon standing to his full height the Malfoy boy made a hasty retreat. Hermione seemed to look at him with both thanks and disapproval while Neville looked at him with unrestrained awe for the rest of the ride.

When the Hogwarts Express stopped in Hogsmeade, Gregor would admit to feeling some shock at the sight of Rubeus Hagrid. He'd seen people taller than him to be certain, but never had Gregor seen somebody that was close to twice his height. He made a mental note to speak with the Keeper of the Keys at a later date.

He found himself riding the boats over the Black Lake with just Hermione; Neville had drifted away after finding his pet toad. Gregor's unnatural size made it so he took up two seats of the small boat, after all.

After the group of first years finally made their way into Hogwarts, a woman named Professor McGonagall gave a short introduction and welcome, and led them inside the Great Hall to begin the sorting ceremony. The sorting hat began to sort the first years into their proper houses after it sang its song, and once Millicent Bulstrode was settled into Slytherin…

"Clegane, Gregor!" Professor McGonagall called.

He walked towards the teacher, with purpose.

"Look at that kid, he's huge!"

" _Mixedblood filth."_

He ignored the voices as best he could, and after sitting on the stool the ratty sorting hat was placed atop his head, making all the sounds of the hall die out as an ancient voice spoke softly.

 _Curious_ , the voice of the hat murmured in his mind, startling him lightly. _You have plenty of smarts, definitely enjoy a good book, but you don't have much interest in academics do you?_

Gregor didn't really know what to say to that, he only got good grades because it was expected of him; not because he wanted to better himself. In truth, he read as an escape, a way so that he wouldn't feel pressured to perform a certain way.

 _Yes, I see,_ said the hat. _You have a thirst for knowledge, but lack the ambition and work ethic needed to_ use _what you learn. Poor match for Slytherin and Hufflepuff. Mmm… You'd do well in Ravenclaw though; they tend to have a similar mindset._

So put me in Ravenclaw, Gregor thought. He'd made a somewhat tentative friendship with Hermione, and she was likely to join Ravenclaw as well. It'd be nice to be able to stick with his friends, he was new to having them.

 _Ah, but I'm not done yet. Mmm… Plenty of courage, willing to do what is right over what is easy. Yes, yes you have the smarts and attitude for Ravenclaw, but your merits would suit you far better in_ "GRYFFINDOR!"

He took the hat off and walked over to the table of red and gold, smiling slightly at the antics a pair of redheaded twins were doing.

The rest of the sorting went by quickly enough; Hermione joined him at Gryffindor, as did Neville. Harry Potter even joined the house of the brave, an action that caused the lions table to hoot and holler in victory, jeering somewhat rudely at the other houses. The last few sortings passed without further incident, some Weasley kid was the last to be sorted in Gryffindor, and Dumbledore stood up to speak.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

 _Strange._ Gregor thought, examining the various foods that suddenly appeared at the tables. He stuck with some meats that weren't coated in grease and simple vegetables; he'd been on a special diet so that he grew without issue and would have to ask the cooks if they had anything healthier for later. _Pumpkin juice, indeed...  
_

He spent the rest of the feast primarily ignoring his fellow first years, more interested in listening to conversations held by the upper years. Apparently some boy named Oliver Wood wanted to recruit him for something.

The feast eventually ended and Dumbledore stood up to speak once more, clapping loudly to catch the children's attention.

"Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should not that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." His gaze lingered on the redheaded twins that tried to look as inconspicuous as possible.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors."

Gregor shrugged, not really bothered by the rule. It essentially said he couldn't use magic in the halls during class hours, but he could still do so in classrooms and on weekends. There weren't enough teachers at the Head Table to take up all of the rooms in Hogwarts, and he was sure to find a good empty classroom for practice. He'd make sure to ask Professor Flitwick, the man was blunt with Gregor and seemed willing to help out a student easily enough.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Gregor, along with the Gryffindor first years, followed the redheaded prefect named Percy from the Great Hall to a portrait of a fat woman in a pink dress.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a large round hole in the wall. All the first years scrambled through it, Gregor had to duck his head slightly, and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room.

Percy showed the girls through a door which apparently led to their dorms and the boys through another. After a trip up a set of spiral staircases the group of six boys found their beds. There were six four-posters hung with red curtains, one of the beds was nearly twice the size of the others and it was obvious that was meant for Gregor.

The group of boys didn't really talk, all of them too tired from the feasting to have a proper conversation, and they just pulled on their night clothes and fell into bed. Gregor found his bed even more comfortable than the one at home, and likened it to a spell of some sort.

He exhaled into his pillow, the stress of the day dying out quickly, and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

The school year began in a similar way to a muggle school, though the subject matter was far different. Most professors used their first class to give a broad overview of their subject and a small glimpse of what they'd be learning this year.

History of Magic turned out to be more of a joke than a class; students already wrote it off as a free period since the ghostly teacher didn't bother to take role. Professor Binns quite literally taught straight out of the book, and his monotone voice soothed many students into a short nap.

Herbology was interesting, and Gregor found himself enjoying the practical aspect of it; he did not care for the written portion of the class in the slightest however.

Defense the Dark Arts was difficult purely because the Professor Quirell wasn't able to speak two full words without stuttering miserably. Gregor decided he would do the assigned work, but make sure to get as much practice as he could in so that he could rely on his practical work.

Astronomy was just strange. Gregor had never watched the stars before, nor had he ever used a telescope, but the tools provided for this class were outdated by over a century at the very least. He found it to simply be a class he would trudge through, and not truly have any connection towards.

Charms was a class he enjoyed, mainly because it was Professor Flitwicks class. The subject as a whole was somewhat difficult for him, but the many uses in everyday life that charms provided gave Gregor the motivation to learn the class as well as he could.

Transfiguration was currently in progress; Gregor was seated next to Neville and stared at the pointed matchstick on his desk with untold interest. For reasons he couldn't understand, Transfiguration just felt _natural_ to Gregor. He lifted his wand once more, focusing all his attention on the item in front of him and flicked it at the pointed matchstick. The matchstick made slow changes, but the end result was a somewhat crude looking needle.

He had absolutely no clue as to _why_ he was able to do this so well, and upon looking at his classmates he noticed he was the only one to change the matchstick into a needle. Though he definitely wasn't complaining about his apparent talent; the moment Professor McGonagall leapt from her desk as a cat and turned into her human form he was instantly hooked.

"Well done Mr. Clegane!" McGonagall praise, pleased that one of her cubs was talented in her subject. "It's been many years since I've seen somebody get their first transfiguration assignment done so quickly. Take fifteen points to Gryffindor."

"Thank you professor."

After Transfiguration, it was Potions, the last class of day. Professor Snape was quite a cruel man, he singled out Harry Potter during the roll call and constantly asked questions only Hermione knew the answer to. When he finished taunting the boy, he told the class to write down all the answers that were given.

Gregor tried right it down, he truly did, but Professor Snape was not a fan of his pen and paper.

"Clegane, what are you doing?" Snape barked.

Trying and failing miserably to hide from the stares of his classmates, he answered the Potions Master. "Writing down the answers, sir."

"Where is your quill and parchment?"

"Ah… In my room sir, Professor Flitwick told me that I could use what I was comfortable with when taking notes, and to use a quill and parchment for assignments."

Snapes nostrils flared, "What Filius allows you to do is his business, but in my classroom there will be no muggle nonsense. In fact…" He whipped out his wand and vanished the paper and pen not a moment later.

Gregor stared at his empty hands, ignoring the snickering of Malfoy and his ilk the best he could. Hermione, who sat beside him, quietly told him that he could copy her notes later; she was apparently sympathetic to his troubles.

"Oh," Snape said. "And one point for not bringing proper supplies." With that he wove his wand at the blackboard and separated the class into groups of two.

Gregor was paired with Neville, and somehow without his looking Neville turned the cauldron into a twisted blob, their potion was seeping across the floor of the classroom and burning holes into people's shoes. Gregor, understanding what was likely to happen, tugged on Nevilles collar and forced him away from the cauldron just as it exploded. The foul liquid drenched Gregors body, and while it was uncomfortable it… It wasn't nearly as bad as he knew it should have been from the warnings Professor Snape gave earlier.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with a wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" he asked Neville with a hiss.

The pain of the potion began to take effect for Gregor, and he let out a small whimper as boils started to pop up on his face; causing Professor Snape to turn to him with a small nod of approval. "Regardless of his pain, Clegane did his duty as Longbottom's partner and spared him the brunt of the pain. Five points to Gryffindor for Clegane, and two points taken from Gryffindor for not paying attention to the lesson Longbottom. Go take Clegane up to the hospital wing."

Neville squirmed uncomfortably, not moving in the slightest, and Snape lost his patience, "NOW!" he spat at the boy.

Gregor groaned in growing pain as the boils began to form around his privates.

And the week had been going so well too.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

 **A/N: So, that's that. For those of you savvy GoT fans, yes I did base Gregor off of Gregor Clegaine from the show. The books describe him as nearly 8 feet tall, and I was like "Huh… That'd work for a quarter-giant."  
**

 **Remember, this was just an experimental fic on my part; I like writing OC's but I wanted to try and write one that was clueless to future events**.

 **As always, if you liked this story please Favorite/Follow and send me a Review. This story, I would greatly appreciate some solid feedback for, it's new territory for me and I want to make sure I do the series justice.**


	2. Blood of Earth

**So, here's another chapter. I needed to pump this out so that I could focus on schoolwork. I'm easily scatterbrained and while I had this chapter in mind I couldn't focus on schoolwork well. Also, if anybody has any suggestions, i'd like to replace my story summary but can't think of the words.  
**

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Albus Dumbledore smiled genially behind his large beard as his professor let loose their woes in his office. The troubles of promiscuous upper years, the poor quality of school brooms, the soon-to-be troubles the Weasley twins would cause and much much more.

Today was October 2nd, and it was the first of the monthly routine meetings that would be held between the Hogwarts professors. The majority of the professors gave their reports and left his office, leaving the room bare save for the four heads of house and Dumbledore himself.

Gingerly he popped a lemon drop into his mouth, enjoying the sweet and sour combination of the muggle treat, and started the final portion of the meeting. "Now, how are our first years doing? Pomona, why don't you start my dear?"

The plump Hufflepuff matron nodded, sipping on a cup of tea calmly. "Amongst my first years, there isn't too much to tell. Ms. Bones seems to be doing well in DADA and History, though given her upbringing that should be no surprise."

The rest of the heads nodded, though Snape did so with a frown tugging on his lips. Amelia Bones had never cared for him, and to this day continued to pester Dumbledore to give him a trial.

"Aside from her, I don't really have much to say on my badgers. On the topic of Herbology however, Minerva has been blessed this year. Young Mr. Longbottom is an amazing green thumb, Ms. Granger seems to devour the texts with fervor and while Mr. Clegane doesn't share the same enthusiasm as Mr. Longbottom he has quite the talent as well."

Minerva smiled smugly, the same smile Snape would mock her with whenever his house won the Quidditch Cup.

Dumbledore nodded, a twinkle in his eye at the mention of Neville, one of the possible recipients of the prophecy, and Gregor, the boy who likely had giants blood running through his veins. After getting a good look at the lad, he couldn't help but agree with Filius' assessment of the boy's heritage.

He turned to the resident Potions Master of Hogwarts, "And you Severus?"

The dour man nodded shortly. "Amongst my Slytherins there are only two that stand out. Mr. Malfoy has a solid grasp of potions and Ms. Greengrass is apparently a budding historian. When it comes to my class however, there aren't any students of any noticeable talent aside from Mr. Malfoy. However, if you were to ask about students that were noticeably _un_ talented, I would have to say Mr. Longbottom has a… _habit_ of blowing up my cauldrons." He offered the head of Gryffindor a patented sneer at the mention of his lost materials, and while she returned his glare it was halfhearted. Minerva was well aware of the Longbottom lads mishaps in Potions class; how could she not when he sent Gregor Clegane to the hospital wing on his very first day of class?

Filius butted in, "Ah, there's actually another Slytherin that exceeds her peers."

Snape rose a brow and silently motioned for the diminutive professor to continue speaking.

"Ms. Davis has an instinctual grasp on Charms. Though I haven't officially taught my students any proper spellwork yet, I caught her reading ahead during a free period and successfully perform a Wingardium Leviosa on a piece of parchment."

Snape mirrored Minerva's smile, an action that caused the woman to bristle and Dumbledore to chuckle merrily.

"And you Filius?" he asked.

"Hm, as I stated, I haven't taught any spellwork as of yet, so I can't give you any prospective Charms Masters or Mistresses just yet, aside from Ms. Davis of course. But amongst my eagles I would have to say that Mr. Boot and Ms. Li are the most exceptional of my lot."

The rest of the heads of houses nodded at that, those two were easily the best of their Ravenclaw yearmates in talent and mindset.

The Headmaster coughed lightly, rubbing at his throat and catching the attention of his company, "Apologies, that lemon drop went down improper. And finally, what of your students, Minerva?"

She nodded shortly, a small smile on her face. "When it comes to my cubs, the ones that stand out are Ms. Granger, Mr. Clegane and Mr. Potter. Ms. Granger is a bibliophile of the highest degree and can usually be seen in the library devouring as many texts as she can find. Mr. Clegane has a good talent for Transfiguration and apparently Herbology, and while he isn't the most social of children he is normally with Ms. Granger in the library when not exploring the castle grounds. Mr. Potter, I've been told, is quite good at DADA and Wood tells me he's inherited his father's skills on the Quidditch pitch." She smiled smugly at Severus, who glared darkly at her. He was never a fan of James Potter being mentioned, and for the spawn of his childhood tormentor to have inherited any skills from the man set him into a right tift.

Her smiled turned into a frown just as quickly, "Sadly, I do have some apparent bad eggs. Mr. Longbottom has extreme confidence issues, and it shows in both his schoolwork and how he goes about his day. The younger Weasley, however, is just lazy. He spends the majority of his time fooling around in the common room, turning in halfhearted essays that in some cases weren't completed. The worst problem though is that he is slowly but surely dragging Mr. Potter down with him!"

The other house heads nodded, Severus did so with a sneer, at the mention of Ronald Weasley. The boy was… underwhelming when compared to his brothers and parents. Perhaps that was why he was that way, what with having such big shoes to fill he simply chose to let life take its course.

Filius chose that moment to speak, "Back on to the topic of Mr. Clegane, I believe I should make something clear to you all." When they nodded at him he spoke as seriously as his squeaky voice would allow. "I am of the belief that, similar to myself and Hagrid, he has some mixedblood in his veins. Giants more than likely."

Severus grimaced in memory of what he'd seen giants do during the war while Pomona and Minerva pondered that statement thoughtfully. It was an entirely reasonable reaction to his size, and his talents in their fields made it more logical. Though they didn't study much on European magical species, it was common knowledge the giants were beings of earth. Herbs grew in the earth and Transfiguration derived from Transmutation, which came from the earth in its primal form. It was expected for mixedbloods to have talents in the elements their ancestors correlated to. Should Gregor Clegane truly possess giants blood, and should he work at it proper, he might never have difficulty with Herbology or Transfiguration for the rest of his life.

"How do we know this for certain?" Pomona asked. She understood that, while it was a boon to have giants blood in certain circumstances, the prejudice in Britain was heavy. Filius had to claw his way through the dueling circuits before he gained any respect regardless of his blood status, and Hagrid could barely keep himself afloat as the Hogwarts gamekeeper with his low salary.

"I had the intention to perform a basic inheritance ritual with him of goblin origin." Filius retorted. Goblins used rituals regularly, and with Filius having their blood running through his veins he had some leeway when it came to using what was widely considered a Dark Art. He couldn't help but scoff at the idea; rituals were made by humans and his goblin ancestors merely adapted them.

Minerva frowned, "Is that truly wise?"

"It's the only way for us to know for certain, and if it is true then we need to work with him appropriately." It was left unsaid that it would be primarily himself and Hagrid that would work with the lad. Their mixedblood heritage would provide a unique opportunity to Mr. Clegane, and if there was one word to describe Filius Flitwick it would be pragmatist.

Minerva conceded the point to the Charms Master and Dumbledore clapped his hands with a smile.

"I believe that's all, yes?" When everybody nodded he continued, "Good! Then I say this meeting is officially over."

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Gregor walked the halls towards his Charms class with skip in his step, a leaf in his mouth and an excited grin on his face. Today was October 31st, Halloween, and the day that Professor Flitwick promised to teach the class their first charm. He'd had plenty of success in Transfiguration, he was able to perform his assignments in one or two attempts and generally spent the rest of the class period playing with the items he was meant to transfigure. The class was simply _fascinating_ , he'd never had more fun idly turning something into something else in his life; something that Professor McGonagall agreed with if the constant stream of points was any indication.

Herbology was a class he was growing to genuinely enjoy. It was one thing to be good with plants, but he found a strange enjoyment in chewing on the leaves of some of the plants that wouldn't kill him. As it turns out, a large majority of the leafs did in fact have the ability to kill him if consumed without being treated properly, but he could still chew on some so long as he didn't swallow.

Potions was a slow going process. Professor Snape had become more tolerable as the weeks past, but he was still stuck being Neville's partner. Good kid though he was, Gregor did not feel truly safe when the shy boy added ingredients to a cauldron, nor did he trust the ingredients Neville prepared when they switched duties.

Defense Against the Dart Arts had been more or less the same from his first class. Professor Quirell's stutter was so bad that he couldn't form his words, and while he seemed to know his craft well he wasn't good at teaching it. Professor Quirrell was at the very least aware of his shortcoming, and wrote on the board what the class should read if they had trouble following his lesson, so Gregor knew that he would at the very least be moderately prepared for second year.

History was the same as it was on the first day; naptime.

Astronomy was the only class he well and truly didn't like. Professor Sinistra was a nice enough woman, she tried her very best to keep her class active, but he just found no interest in studying the stars. That was the trick of Hogwarts, people tried to do their best because they _wanted_ to be good at magic; not because their parents expected them to be good. It made Gregor think back to his old schools, where he was expected to be above his peers, and he found he liked Hogwarts far more.

Flying… Well, he didn't much care for it. He found himself much more comfortable on the ground than he was in the air. Gregor wasn't the slightest bit ashamed of that, he may have been young but the idea that he would be good at everything was ridiculous; he was proud of what he could do. He would learn to fly eventually, the skill was far too useful to ignore, but he wanted to stick to his strengths before moving on to his weaknesses when it came to magical studies and activities.

On the topic of flying, Gregor couldn't help but think of his dormmates, more specifically Harry Potter – the youngest Seeker in a century. He'd only spoken to the boy a few times, and all of those times were when they were heading to bed, and he would admit he was somewhat disappointed. The Harry Potter Adventure series made the boy out to be some kind of hero, and while Gregor was well aware that the books couldn't be trusted he was influenced by them enough to already have a picture painted of the green eyed wizard. Still, it wasn't like Harry was a bad kid, he just wasn't what Gregor was expecting; an opinion shared by the whole of Hogwarts.

"Gregor." came a feminine voice that knocked him out of his musing. He turned around, looking down to see Hermione looking at him in disapproval. He didn't exactly know what to think of her as a whole. She was a nice enough girl and he knew she meant well, but she was as bossy as they came. When he was curious about something and wanted to research it or ask for help, she was always there to show him with _five_ books had what he wanted or would give him a lecture on the subject. They were friendly with each other, that much was certain, but were they friends?

He wasn't entirely sure.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Why do you insist on chewing on that leaf? You've been doing that for over a month, and it makes you look barbaric." Ah, there it was, the reason he wasn't sure if they were friends.

He shrugged, not bothering to offer a retort. They walked in general silence; the only sounds came from Gregor as he _loudly_ chewed on his leaf, to Hermione's growing irritation. He may not have been a fan of bullying, but he did enjoy a good teasing and Hermione was just _easy_ to annoy.

They made their way to Professor Flitwicks class a few minutes later, both were a little less than fifteen minutes early. Hermione entertained herself by reading up on the charms book, specifically the section on levitation, and Gregor entertained himself by practicing transfiguration by turning the feather on his desk into random small things, and back to a feather as quickly and as many times as he could. Hermione was obviously annoyed with him doing this, she felt he was showing off, but Professor Flitwick found it great fun and even offered suggestions of what Gregor should turn the feather into next.

The class filed in soon after, Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors coming in different intervals. The last to arrive was, once again, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Professor Flitwick began the roll and split the class up, Gregor was paired with Hannah Abbot and Hermione was paired with Ron.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched atop his pile of books in the middle of the circular classroom. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important too; never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was quite difficult. No matter what he tried, Gregor couldn't get his feather to move. Hannah was having issues as well, but she was able to make the feather twitch at the very least. By the end of class, Hannah was able to levitate it a little, while Gregor was barely able to make it twitch a quarter inch.

"Oh!" Professor Flitwick squeaked once more, "Before I forget. Mr. Clegane, could you please stay after? I'd like to talk to you about something."

The class snickered, thinking he was in trouble, and Gregor just nodded to the short professor. He didn't _think_ he was in trouble, he hadn't really done anything that was against the rules, as far as he was aware at the very least.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

When the last of the students left the classroom, Professor Flitwick turned his wand on the door and closed it with a negligent swish of the stick.

"Now," he said. "I'm sure you're confused about why I've asked you to stay."

Gregor nodded wordlessly, still chewing on his leaf. Professor Flitwick hopped off from his tower of books and motioned for Gregor to follow. He went to his desk, grabbed a muggle pen and wrote down on a small piece of parchment. He then wordlessly handed the parchment over to Gregor, and he read it in confusion.

 _The Ritual Chamber is located in the Charms classroom on the second floor of Hogwarts._

Before Gregor's eyes, a door made of pure stone materialized in front of him.

"The Fidelius charm," Professor Flitwick squeaked, hobbling over to the newly formed door and opening it with a wave of his wand. "A charm that can conceal _any_ secret, be it the location of a simple diary to that of a grand mansion, inside the soul of the person who performs the charm. You won't be learning it any time soon, it's not a part of the Hogwarts curriculum and is a Mastery level charm you see, but it's dead useful."

Professor Flitwick then motioned for Gregor to follow him inside the stone door. He did so with hesitancy, no matter how much he liked Professor Flitwick this was a uniquely scary situation. The door led the pair into a small and fairly bare room, save for small bookshelf in the corner, a single stone island with a knife on it and a white tablet of some kind next to the knife. Gregor looked at the tablet curiously; on it was a single inscription of a rune of some sort.

"Othala." Professor Flitwick clarified, noting Gregor's curiosity, "The rune of ancestral spiritual power, divine inheritance, and earthly estate."

"Professor," Gregor said sharply, curiosity turned to annoyance. "Why am I here?" Normally, he would have never spoken to his favorite professor in such a manner. This, however, was not a normal circumstance in the slightest. In fact, it seemed like the start of a horror scene from one of his more adult fantasy novels. He palmed his wand cautiously, well aware that he didn't know a single offensive spell.

Instead of answering Gregor, Professor Flitwick walked around the stone island and spoke carefully, "Did you know that I am part goblin? My maternal grandfather was a goblin, nasty sort that took my grandmother as a prize when she lost too many Galleons in a bet of some kind. She gave birth to my mother, who became pregnant with me during her work at a Knockturn Alley brothel a couple of decades later."

Gregor chose to remain silent, his curiosity slowly overtaking his annoyance. He kept his wand palmed, but his grip loosened slightly.

"A small history lesson that you likely wouldn't have heard until you're were a sixth year, should you have chosen to take your NEWTs in History of Magic that is. Goblins are one of four known magical species that can breed with humans in Europe; goblins, veela, giants and undines. Naturally there are exceptions to this rule, werewolves and vampires predominantly, but we are speaking of magical species and not magical curses.

"Each of these magical species are strongly connected to an element of nature. Veela are beings of fire, undines are beings of water, giants are beings of earth and goblins are beings of metal. You might ask 'what about wind?' and the answer to that would be humans. Because of these elements, these species have gifts in magic that are commonly seen in their descendants."

Gregor wasn't certain where Professor Flitwick was going with this, but he was captivated to be certain. He had realized that this likely wasn't going to be where he died, and lost the caution in his stance.

"Fire is the element of change, and there is no branch of magic more ever changing than Charms. Water is the element of calm, and a potion handled by an undine or undine descendant tends to be exemplary. Metal is tricky, because it is used both for building and war. Goblins have minor talent in Transfiguration and Charms, but their strength lay in the warfare aspect of metal; Dueling. Earth is the element of growth and stability. The giants of old tended to the greatest gardens the world had ever seen, and they were able to bend the earth in such a way that the first wizards attempted to copy them and made what was known as Transmutation, which later evolved into Transfiguration."

Gregor's eyes widened, his heart hammered, and he accidentally swallowed the leaf in his mouth. He gripped his wand as if it were a line of defense. What was his professor trying to say?

"Wind is the most difficult element to define because it takes everything in. Wind can snuff out fire, can create monstrous waves on the ocean, can destroy metals from stone and can tear the earth asunder. Wind can _also_ keep a fire going, can carry ships across the sea, can unveil metals from stone and can carry soil and dirt for plants to grow. Winds greatest power is the fact that it has no form, it has no limit. Human witches and wizards are similar in this regard, they have no specialty when it comes to the magical arts but they have the ability to be great at any and everything. It is because of this, because of this nature, that humans can breed with the four magical species I mentioned. The term for people born and descended from this union is mixedblood. I should note that while mixedbloods normally have talent in their ancestral element, there is nothing wrong with focusing on another subject."

He pulled out his wand and tapped the stone island. A set of small stairs appeared and he hopped onto them one by one. He put his wand down on the table and grabbed the knife.

"Centuries ago, human witches and wizards banned a magic of their own invention and labeled it a Dark Art; Rituals. This room used to be the classroom that it was taught in, I believe it was available only to students with high grades in both Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. However, Goblins were never banned from using rituals, and due to my ancestry I have been given some freedoms when it comes to the magical art." To further prove his point, he lifted up the back of his robe, showing a few runic symbols branded into his skin.

He put his robe back down, held his thumb out and nicked it with the knife, causing small drops of blood to coat the blade. He put the blade over the tablet with the Othala rune on it, and as the blood dropped onto the rune so too did the rune emit a glow. It began to shine a bright white, and after a moment turned a dull yellow.

"This is known as the Ritual of Inheritance. A simple thing to be honest, the goblins have developed a ritual that can tell people that put their blood on the runes their family tree dating three generations back, but it serves its purpose. Should a goblin bleed onto the Ritual of Inheritance it will glow a bright yellow. A half-goblin's blood would make it glow a simple yellow and a quarter-goblin's blood, such as myself, would glow a dull yellow. Should somebody with an eighth's blood bleed onto the tablet, nothing would happen; the connection to that species would be too diluted to be of note. That is why a pureblood is somebody with two sets of magical grandparents; their muggle or muggleborn great grandparents magical connection to them would be so diluted it wouldn't matter.

"Yellow for goblins, red for veela, blue for undines and green for giants."

He grabbed his wand once more and vanished the blood on both the knife and the tablet, causing the dull yellow glowing tablet to return to its standard white color. Wordlessly, Professor Flitwick put the knife down and motioned for Gregor to give the test a chance. Gregor took hold of the knife with a shaky hand, panic was creeping on his face.

"Gregor," Professor Flitwick said solemnly, "I hope you do not take offense, but I would like you to take the Ritual of Inheritance."

Gregors mind was working far faster than it had ever done before. He knew he was adopted; Alec and Dorothy were very upfront about that. He'd even gotten the chance to visit Leopold House when he was ten, and the matron there said she had no clue who the person that dropped him off was. He was found on the patio of the building, with nothing but a few cloths wrapped around his body and a note written in French that had his name on it.

To be perfectly honest, he never really gave much thought about his birth parents. Though life with Alec and Dorothy was stressful at times, they treated him well. But-

But what if the reason he was given up was because he was a – a mixedblood freak?

No… Professor Flitwick may have been quirky and shorter than most, but he was no freak. And if he wasn't a freak then Gregor wasn't either. Professor Flitwick was _proud_ of his ancestry, even if he didn't like his grandfather. He spoke with pride when talking of the goblin race, and Gregor felt a small bit of hope bubble within him that he would feel something similar to that.

He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth and walked up to the tablet. With a wince he cut at his thumb and let the thick red liquid drip from the knife onto the Othala rune.

The Ritual of Inheritance began to shine that same bright white and after a moment…

It turned a dull green.

Gregor Clegane had giants blood in his veins, a quarter-giant if the test proved true.

Professor Flitwick clapped his hands, "Well! I'm sorry I sprung this on you my boy, but I had to be certain. My education was different than a normal wizard child's because I had stronger weaknesses in Herbology and Potions. Your weakness would be in Charms, earth doesn't change near as easily as fire does, which is why _I_ had to be the one to clarify your blood status. Oh don't worry, you'll still be able to perform Charms, they will just take more effort and focus.

"Hmmm… Only female giants are capable of reproducing with humans. Should a male giant impregnate a normal witch the witch would die as would the baby due to her being too small to properly nourish the babe. It is likely that your mother was a half-giant, male half-giants have a similar problem to male giants when it comes to children and humans."

Gregor nodded dumbly, still staring at the dull green glowing rune.

"The Hogwarts gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, is half-giant. His skill in most magic is poor to be honest, his wand was snapped many years ago, but I'm sure he'd be happy to give you any help he can should you ask."

TTTTTTTTTTTT

The rest of the day passed by in a general blur for Gregor. He wasn't able to stay with Professor Flitwick much longer, the man had other classes to teach and he himself had classes to attend, but it didn't matter. He couldn't focus on his schoolwork well, his mind far too jarred to think about anything relevant. Luckily, because of the holiday, his professors were lenient with him and he wasn't punished for his inattentive attitude.

He was quite lucky that he didn't have Professor Snape or McGonagall today.

Because of his distracted state of mind, he didn't notice that Hermione had been missing for the rest of the day, nor had he seen the looks of guilt on both Ron Weasley's and Harry Potter's faces.

Because of his distracted state of mind, he didn't pay much attention to the Great Hall's dissent into panic when Professor Quirrell ran in, screaming about a Troll, and then promptly fainted. Nor did he see Harry Potter and Ron Weasley run out of the Great Hall, going the opposite way of the other students.

So, when his mind was no longer dazed on November 1st, Gregor would admit he was confused to see Hermione sitting so closely with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. He had thought she didn't much care for them.

 _Well_ , he thought, _hopefully she'll nag them more than she does me._

TTTTTTTTTTTT

Quidditch was interesting. Gregor never read the rules for the sport but Hermione was adamant that he go and support Harry, a statement that all the Gryffindor first years apparently agreed with.

He didn't quite understand the rules. Well, that would be a false statement. He understood the rules easily enough, what he didn't understand were the _700 possible fouls_.

Still, the match was exciting. Harry got stuck on his broom midair, the thing was bucking like a horse in heat, and while he was holding on for dear life Gregor caught _Hermione Granger_ lighting Professor Snapes robes on fire.

That was easily the best part of the game in Gregors mind.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

The Christmas holidays rolled around far quicker than Gregor had anticipated and he found himself in a much emptier Hogwarts.

He would have gone home for the hols in most cases, but Alec and Dorothy had told him that they were going to be visiting Alecs brother Joff in Ireland. Say what he will about his adoptive family, but he did not enjoy Alec's extended family in the slightest, and chose to stay at Hogwarts instead.

In any case, with the majority of students gone, the professors had more free time and he knew that this would be his only chance to ask his head of house questions of a- well, of a more questionable nature.

He found his way to her office and tapped the door knocker twice, waiting patiently.

"Mr. Clegane?" The professor asked with a raised brow once she'd opened the door to his knocking. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"I had some questions about Transfiguration and was hoping you could answer them."

She ran a hand through her lightly greying black hair and nodded slightly. "Very well," she said as she opened the door to let him in.

Gregor looked around the room curiously, he'd never seen a teacher's quarters before. The only reason he knew how to get to her room was because it was posted in the Gryffindor common room for students that needed help of a more personal nature. The room was fairly barren, save for a few Quidditch posters, a desk covered in parchment, a pair of chairs in front of the desk and a small cot in the far corner.

He also noted it smelled of catnip.

"Have a seat." McGonagall said, gesturing to one of the chairs. She took a moment to go behind her desk and pull out a small glass of gin before taking the other seat. "What do you need to ask?"

He shuffled in the seat lightly; it was almost too small to sit in. McGonagall waved her wand negligently and the seat expanded for him, a cushion also appeared under his bum. He looked wide eyed at the casual display of his favorite subject, a small grin tugging at his mouth.

"Well, it's not a matter of _need_ but I did want to know something. I couldn't find any real mention of it in our book."

She motioned for him to continue as she sipped on her drink.

"I want to know how to turn into a cat, like you did on the first day of class." He'd been absolutely entranced when she did that, and he wanted to do something similar. He'd always wanted to be able to turn into an animal, ever since he started playing WoW a year ago and chose a Tauren Druid as a main.

Plus it could be fun.

She swished her drink around in her mouth slowly before swallowing loudly and shaking her head, "I'm afraid it's unlikely you'll ever be able to do that."

"What?" Why?!

She chuckled, "Mr. Clegane, Gregor if you don't mind me calling you that, the reason it's unlikely is because each and every person has the capability of turning into an animal, but the animal form is unique to them. I'm sure there are other magicals around the world that can turn into cats, but I've never met one in all of my fifty six years of life."

She took another sip of her drink, noting Gregors full attention on her person, and spoke. "The term for what you are asking about is Animagus, a witch or wizard that elects to turn into an animal. To become an Animagus is a lengthy and dangerous process; many magicals die in the process or lose themselves and go mad."

Gregor frowned, "So it's not taught?"

"I never said that Gregor, I just said that it was a lengthy and dangerous process. The process is taught to third years, and sixth years can elect to take a course with both myself and Headmaster Dumbledore should they choose to become one."

His frown was still on his face, "Why do you teach third years the process, but only teach sixth years how to do it?"

She took another sip of her drink, swirling it around in her glass as she swallowed. "Sixth year is when I begin teaching Self-Transfiguration. The class is only available to people that passed their OWLs with a minimum of an E, so I have more one-on-one time with my students and it allows me to teach them the Animagus process more in depth. However, third year is when students begin to transfigure living creatures; rats into birds, beetles into butterflies and so on and so forth.

"Because of this, some third year students who are successful grow overconfident and believe they can become Animagi; it happens every year without fail. Sometimes they truly _do_ have the talent, I've seen it a few times, but most of the time those students die in the attempt. I decided to explain the steps to become an Animagus as well as the consequences of each step during third year classes so that I wouldn't be held responsible for any mishaps. Even then, the information I give my third years is so bare that they wouldn't be able to turn their finger into a claw, let alone their body into an animal. The consequences are what they need to understand, not the process."

Gregor looked at the ceiling depicting an Applebee Arrows poster thoughtfully. "What about me?" he asked.

"No." she bluntly stated without preamble.

He blinked, not expecting the answer, "What?"

"No, Gregor. Regardless of your talent in my field, you are far too young and inexperienced to even consider undertaking the Animagus transformation process."

"But-"

"Gregor," she said, her voice betrayed no little amount of annoyance. With a sigh she got up from her seat and went to her desk, fiddling with the drawers and returning with a pair of parchments. Without so much as a how-do-you-do she tossed them on his lap.

"Those are the syllabi for both first and second year Transfiguration classes. If you can prove to me that you know the material from them then I will tell you about the Animagus process the same way I would a third year student. Is that sufficient for you to drop this line of thought for now?"

Gregor just nodded dumbly, his eyes trained onto the papers in front of him. He read through the first year syllabus and found that he was close completing it; only three months off the mark.

He may not have gotten exactly what he came for, but he got enough to keep him content.

Professor McGonagall nodded briskly and wove her wand at the door, causing it to open. "If that will be all?"

TTTTTTTTTTTT

The rest of the Christmas hols went by in a blur.

Christmas itself was a fairly droll day for Gregor, he received a total of three presents. From Alec and Dorothy, a small package containing ten Galleons. From Hermione, a single box of chocolates that were similarly gifted to Harry and Ron. From Professor Flitwick, a book called _Origins of Race_ which detailed the birth and/or creation or the magical species of Europe and what advantages and disadvantages they had at certain magicks.

He would admit to being jealous of the gift Harry received, a Cloak of Invisibility from a mysterious benefactor. Still, it was apparently a family heirloom, and Gregor wouldn't hold contempt against the younger boy for gaining possession of one of the last remnants of his father.

The Weasleys took up the majority of his time during the rest of the break. They were ridiculously into Quidditch, Percy was just more quiet about his enthusiasm, and essentially forced Gregor to play Keeper in a game of three-man pickup. His team of himself and the twins won in the end purely because of the twins talent in the air, he himself had let over twenty Quaffles past his guard before he figured out how to not fall off the damned twig.

Still, he learned how to fly proper over the break, something that had a variety of future uses.

The only curiosity that happened was in the middle of the night, the day before the break ended, Harry took his cloak and left to do God knows what. When he came back, he woke Ron up and started to babble about finding his parents in a mirror.

Gregor didn't truly know what to think about that – perhaps the boy had walked into that Divination Professors room by mistake? He remembered hearing Percy groan about the fumes in the room making him feel loopy.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

The rest of the school year was relatively tame. No Professors telling him he wasn't completely human, no professors fainting, no trolls…

Yes, Gregor considered the rest of the school year to be less exciting.

Still, he did finally get around to talking to Hagrid. The man was almost twice Gregors height, standing at near twelve feet high compared to his own 6'2.

He was a nice enough man, had a terrible habit of talking when he shouldn't. He also apparently was a fan of the rarer sorts of magical creatures, owning both a hellhound and an acromantula named Fluffy and Aragog respectively. He seemed to have been in the process of hatching his third unusual pet, if the egg in his cauldron was any indication, but Gregor made sure to leave before Hagrid could explain.

Nice enough man, but Gregor came to see if he could help with giants blood, not talk of pets.

Without really meaning to, Gregor returned to his more antisocial tendencies during the latter half of the school year. Hermione found herself content with Harry and Ron, and he never really payed much attention to Neville outside of class.

The reason for his closed off attitude came in the form of his Transfiguration studies. He was absolutely focused on becoming an Animagus, he _wanted it so bad!_ He finished up with first year Transfiguration by the middle of February and was over halfway through with second year by the time the leaving feast began.

It was lucky that first and second year Transfiguration class was primarily of the same work, only to an elevated level. It hadn't dealt with some of the harder and more precise branches of Transfiguration yet, such as the Transfiguration of animals. It allowed Gregor to speed through his workload far quicker than he would have had he started this later on in his education.

He also began working with Professor Flitwick one on one. He absolutely needed all the help he could get when it came to Charms. Gregor would always have difficulty with the craft, his giants blood made the finesse needed for the class quite difficult, but he had the same rudimentary capability to learn that every other Hogwarts student possessed. When he stopped growing he would have an easier time, Professor Flitwick told him, just as he himself had an easier time when he grew to his full height at the age of nineteen.

Finally, the end-of-year feast came. Gregor sat next to Seamus Finnigan and Hermione, who sat across from Harry and Ron.

At the head table Dumbledore stood up and made his way to his podium.

"Another year gone!" he said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink out teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were – you have the whole sumer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year!

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with 312 points; in third, Hufflepuff, with 352; Ravenclaw has 426 and Slytherin, 472."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Gregor frowned, he didn't like losing.

"Yes, yes, well drone, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account. I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…

"First – to Mr. Ronald Weasley for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

Gregor himself was silent, only politely clapping. He had no idea that Professor McGonagall even had a giant chess set.

When silence returned Dumbledore spoke again.

"Second – to Miss Hermione Granger, for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gregor watched, amused, as Hermione buried her face into her arms.

"Third – to Mr. Harry Potter, for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The cheers were deafening. Gryffindor now had 472 points, tied with Slytherin. Dumbledore raised his hand and the room fell silent once more.

"There are all kinds of course," he said solemnly. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much, if not more so, to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Roars of approval rang throughout the hall, from all the tables aside from Slytherin. Gregor couldn't help but give them sympathy. True, the Slyertherins he interacted with were a fairly nasty sort, Draco Malfoy came to mind, but the rest were perfectly fine if a little quiet. They didn't deserve the treatment the hall was giving them.

Then again…

The stricken look of horror on Malfoy's face made Gregor hoot and holler along with his house just the same. Serves the ponce right for being such an arse for the whole year.

TTTTTTTTTTTT

 **A/N: So, that's that.**

 **I wanted to make first year go by quickly because the books primarily used it as a character builder. The real good parts of Harry Potter come in the books after, and I'll be using the second book much more than I will the first.**

 **Like all stories on Fanfiction, I wanted to be a little different in my approach to this series, which is why I made Gregor what he is. Let me clarify something that I have been asked, the only thing Gregor shares/will share with Gregor Clegane from GoT is the name and size. Gregor from GoT was a terrible person, and while my Gregor isn't going to be all sunshine and daisies he will** _ **never**_ **be as bad as that.**

 **So, if you didn't figure it out I happen to like the concept of Animagus. Quite a lot actually. I got into the Harry Potter books from a friend I met online in WoW, and my main was a Druid. The skill just spoke with my class of choice and has always been one of my favorites.**

 **For those that think Gregor's personality isn't fleshed out enough – you're dead right. He's twelve, no twelve year old has a solid/unique personality as of yet. As of right now, he's just the standard first year that happens to have a curious lineage and is good at Transfiguration. Come second year, Gregor will well and truly begin to form as a person for your perusal.**

 **The thing about mixedbloods was an idea that just came to me out of nowhere. Can't say I don't like how it turned out though.**

 **If you liked this please Favorite/Follow and send me a Review.**


	3. Authors Note

**ANOUNCEMENT: I HAVE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE!**

 **So, this is a little random, but here we go. I am rewriting Born of Earth.**

 **Easier than I thought it would be to say that.**

 **The simple reason is that I paced Born of Earth poorly and wanted to focus more on character development. Gregor was such a damn stale character and while none of us expect a twelve year old kid to be filled with personality I didn't give him** _ **anything.**_

 **It got to the point where it was annoying to write my own character, and when that happens you know it's time for either a rewrite or to quit while I'm ahead.**

 **The new story is called Mixedblood, check it out if you get the chance.**


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